


Chasing Twisters

by tempered_rose



Series: Western Verse [1]
Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Western, Blow Jobs, Historical, Historical References, M/M, Prostitution, Religious Conflict, Western, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2541272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mats Hummels is the sheriff of a town called Sundance and his word is the law. However, his morals and duties are compromised when he meets a blond man in Lewandowski's saloon named Marco who calls him handsome and offers him whatever he wants. Who is he, but a humble man, to refuse such a generous offer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Twisters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scionavarielle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scionavarielle/gifts).



> This is a request fic that was made ages and a day ago by Elma who wanted Marco/Mats in a prostitution AU setting. I, however, wanted to write a western AU. So…I combined the two and this happened. I hope you like it my dear, I really do :) *frets nervously*
> 
> Story setting is around 1850's New Mexico Territory near the Arizona boarder. Forgive any historical inaccuracies, I tried to make sure everything was as close as possible to accurate.

The sun was high in the sky, burning hot as it scorched the earth below its mighty reach. The horizon bubbled in the odd way that happens when the sun is out and you’re looking too far away to make any sense of anything; but then again, maybe under such a hot sun, nothing was supposed to be making any sense at all. His hat was dipped low over his face to shade it as much as possible and the worn leather of the reigns in his hand were as familiar to him as the worn part of the saddle in which he was currently sat. The smell of sweat, leather, man, and horse were everything in the nearby area and that was good enough for him.

At least now there was no fired gunpowder, no blood, or no dead body to smell this time.

He gently spurred his horse away from the rocks’ edge and he headed back towards town. It would be an hour before he was back in the town’s city limits, but he didn’t mind the ride headed back into the town. His business out of it had been completed and there was nothing more that he needed than to enter into the sheriff’s office and put his feet up on his desk. Maybe he’d get lucky and the shade inside the building would be enough to cool him off instead of matching the temperature outside and making everything miserable all over again.

As Mats crossed the terrain headed back to Sundance, he thought about the reason why he had left the city limits in the first place and he almost chuckled to himself. The farmer who had been trying to raise cattle in this God-forsaken landscape since before Mats was the sheriff—and even before he had been born all those years ago—had lost another one to the Indians who were making raids more and more frequently. If they didn’t stop, Mats was going to have to take further action. The thought took away the amusement he had at ol’ farmer Ballack and he frowned a little.

He was going to have to go have a chat with the chief of the Apache, Cochise, and make sure that things were still going to be okay between the people of Sundance and the Apache. He really didn’t want to have to think of the consequences if things weren’t okay between them. He didn’t want to have to call for aid from Texas or from the US Calvary; they caused far too much trouble than what they helped with and that would only incite the Indians even more.

Mats crossed across a creek bed, long since dry in the hot desert sun, and he continued heading east, back towards town. The way he figured it he had just over six more hours of sunlight left, plenty of time to get home with light to spare and sit on the porch to make sure the people of Sundance were behaving themselves. With the new shipment of whisky that had arrived at Lewandowski’s bar, he doubted very much that it would be a quiet night tonight. Mats sighed, already feeling the stiffness in his back and his legs for having been on a horse more today than he had been on his own feet. The prospect of going home only to go straight to work making sure the city’s people weren’t being publically indecent or killing one another seemed like more work than he was sure he wanted to do right now.

At least he had a deputy now, he thought absently as his bay horse continued on the way home. He thought about his deputy then and he shook his head. How a kid like that found his way out in the West, especially in a place like Sundance, Mats would never know. He was too opened minded to be judgmental about city-folk that tried to make it out West, but the Kid—as he, Mats, and the rest of the people of Sundance had taken to calling him—had proved himself to be a crack shot with a revolver and he hadn’t minded the long hours or hard work. Not bad for a city-slicker, Mats had thought and would tell him often enough.

Mats thought about it now and tried to remember where the Kid was from. Pennsylvania, he thought, but he didn’t remember. He had filed it under ‘things that are interesting but not at all relevant to getting a day’s work done’, and had therefore forgotten it. Things that also went into that category included things like his parents’ wedding anniversary, his own birthday, and where places like Washington DC could be located.

Mats did remember the important things, like his mama’s birthday and all the relevant Bible verses he could remember. He also knew the law backwards, frontwards, and sideways. He knew the difference between right and wrong and that there was, in fact, a gray area. He knew that a peaceful resolution to a problem was better than a violent one. He knew how to read, to sign his name and write a letter, he also knew that sometimes book learnin’ wasn’t the best answer and it took a people-learned person to accomplish things. He knew how to fix a fence, herd cattle, and what it felt like to work sixteen hours under the burning West Texas sun. He knew lots of things, but perhaps the most important lesson he had learned and knew how to go about things in the most useful way for his job was how to fire a gun and kill a man with it.

It wasn’t often that the sheriff of Sundance had to use such thing. Most of his fellow citizens knew that by now if the Sheriff was pulling out his gun you either better make tracks out of the way or stop whatever it is you were doing to earn yourself such attention. Not many were foolish to test the young man that was their local lawman, but for those that didn’t, they proved as a lesson as to what not to do. Mats hadn’t missed yet.

He wasn’t a man to take the law into his own hands, but he would if he had to. Sometimes the long arm of justice couldn’t reach out into the desert, into the mouth of the Apache, where true criminals liked to run to when they thought that no one would be foolish enough to pursue them. How wrong they were. Mats had himself considered pretty lucky to be on speaking terms with Cochise, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to risk upsetting the Apache nation with foolhardy tricks just to go after a murderer or a bank robber. He wasn’t feeling that lucky, no matter what other people thought of him and his exceptional record with convictions.

The sun was halfway between the highest point in the sky and the horizon to the West, which was behind him when he arrived on the outskirts of Sundance. The first farm he came to he knew well enough. It was the Klinsmann homestead and it was one of the most successful ranches out in this part of the Territory with lots of good men and boys alike who kept the place running so successfully. The two that Mats knew the best were the two that he had spent the most time with, the two troublemakers: Lukas and Bastian. So close they were that everybody thought they were brothers, though they looked little alike and he was pretty sure Bastian was older. Not to mention there was the fact that they were a little _too_ close, but he wasn’t certain about that and it didn’t matter much to him anyway. He had heard the expression ‘whatever floats your boat’ and he was a firm believer in that, despite the fact it quarreled very strongly with his belief in the Good Book.

He continued riding down the main road in town and felt his horse getting tired underneath him. He would take him over to Lahm’s Livery and stable him for the night, with the promise of extra feed for being such a good servant for the Territory today. Mats eyed Lewandowski’s as he passed it and he could already hear the piano player already tearing up the joint. Mats shook his head; he would have to stop by for sure tonight, likely more than once, just to quiet the place down. God only knew how the neighbors hated the Polish man for the craziness that his saloon could offer the town. And tomorrow was Sunday for crying out loud.

Mats went straight over the Livery Stable and dismounted, stretching as he did so and a groan slipped from his mouth as he did. His legs felt numb and his back was stiffer than ever. It took him a moment before he was steadied on solid ground and patted his horse’s neck. The sun was still high, but it was on its way down, and the heat wasn’t quite so bad now.

Before he had to whistle for someone to come out, one of the kids, Durm, came out and took Mats’ horse’s reigns.

“Thank you Erik.” Mats replied and the boy nodded. The sheriff tossed him a coin, which he caught with fumbling fingers. “Give him extra tonight, he earned it.”

“You got it sheriff.” Erik flashed a smile and Mats nodded before he gave one last pat to his horse’s neck and started for the office. He hoped that walking back towards the center of town would loosen his muscles up and ease the tension in his back. By the time he arrived, it still hadn’t and he sighed. He would have to go see the Doctor later if it kept up.

He started up the stairs of the office and walked inside, the door having been open along with all the windows for a breeze to stir through the building. The Kid was sitting at his desk and was reclining back in his chair right up until the moment he saw Mats walk in, then he snapped to attention and Mats would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been quite so tired.

“Quiet time today, Kid?” Mats asked as he sank down into his own chair. It was a newfangled device, it rolled _and_ swiveled if he wanted it to. When it had first come, he had enjoyed spinning around in it when no one else was around.

The Kid nodded and Mats relaxed a little while he listened to the report.

“Had to settle a fist-fight in the saloon, but that wasn’t too hard.” The Kid replied and leaned back in his chair, though this time he kept his feet on the ground instead of putting them back up like he probably wanted to.

“Between who?” Mats asked with a raised eyebrow, leaning back in his own chair and he steepled his fingers.

“Mr. Müller and Mr. Robben. They were fighting over the new stage coach and the women that came in today.” The Kid replied and Mats shook his head.

“We have had another coach come through?” Mats asked then consulted the calendar that was on his desk. It was a fancy thing, having come all the way from Austin where his mother had sent it to him for ‘keeping track of these things’ in the Territory. “Wasn’t time for a new one, was it?”

The Kid shrugged. “Apparently so. Said they were headed towards Denver.”

“Any look like they wanted to stick around?” Mats asked, looking up at the Kid and waited for an answer. If he said yes, then he would have even more of an excuse to go over to Lewandowski’s and make sure none of them had a wanted poster out for them or appeared to want to make one and cause some trouble for him.

The Kid shrugged again and Mats wondered how someone, a city-slicker, could shrug that much. Didn’t they have an answer for everything? Weren’t they supposed to be well-mannered and, dare he say?, refined?

“I wouldn’t know, as I did not talk to them myself. I was too busy making sure Misters Müller and Robben didn’t take one another’s head off to interrogate them.”

“Where _is_ your sense of fun, Kid?” Mats asked as he got up and started towards the cells of the jail. He walked past the Kid’s desk and he saw the other man’s jaw twitching. Mats paused and looked at his deputy with a raised eyebrow. “Problem?”

He wondered if the Kid would do the dance of politeness and manners to his boss and say no and go on about his business or if he would cave in to his annoyance and mention what Mats knew was bothering him. That nickname. The Kid. He didn’t like it and Mats actually _did_ know the Kid’s name, but it was funner this way and it seemed to irk the city-slicker without being an outright rude name. Besides, he was young and it still didn’t make any sense for someone of his age and ambition to settle for the New Mexico Territory anyway. He should be back East someplace or maybe California where apparently big cities were being made on mountains of gold.

The Kid finally answered by shifting in his seat and he shook his head. “No sir, there is no problem. May I take my supper break?”

Mats nodded, deciding to give the boy a break after he chose to not say anything about the nickname he had been given. Lord knew that no matter where the boy went for dinner he was going to be called ‘the Kid’ there also. He gave him a break.

“‘Course you can, Julian. Go on then, but be back before the sun goes down. We’re going over to Lewandowski’s later.”

“Yes sir,” Julian replied, looking a little happier that Mats had called him by his name, and he started to pick up his hat and head for the door. “Would you like me to bring you back anything?”

Mats thought about it but he shook his head ultimately deciding against it. “No thanks. I’ll get my own supper later, don’t worry after me.”

“As you say, sir.” Julian left the jail and Mats shook his head as he picked up one of the rifles on the wall. His eye caught a glimpse of the wanted posters and he looked for any new ones that might have come in the post. There wasn’t any.

He took the rifle off the rack and picked up the necessary supplies before he went outside and took a seat in one of the chairs. He crossed one leg over the other’s knee, making a temporary shelf so that he could clean the gun without too much fumbling or likeliness of dropping anything important. Every so often, he would glance up and check the street for anyone looking if they were up to no good and then he would go back to cleaning the gun.

Time itself seemed to pass pretty slowly for the afternoon and the sun slowly began to creep towards the edge of the earth. The temperature stayed the same, hot, without mercy or lightening up on it. It was miserable, but Mats knew that once the sun was gone and the heat had dissipated for the night, it would get downright chilly. He would have to make sure they locked up before they went out to the saloon; he wasn’t looking forward to coming back to a cold office for having left the doors and windows open.

He had finished cleaning the rifle and had remounted it before Julian returned. Mats told him to help him pull the windows and doors shut and they proceeded around the jail to do so for the next few minutes before Mats picked up his hat and they both started for the door. The Kid had made sure his bowtie tails were secure and looking neatly arranged before they could leave. Mats shook his head, uncaring so much of his own appearance, and they started down the main road for their nightly rounds of patrol. Mats took one side of the street and the Kid took the other.

So they went until they arrived at the very end of the street and the church that formed the other end of the street. They joined up together there and started back up the main road side by side before they made a right turn into Lewandowski’s on the way back to the jail. Once they had pushed open the swinging doors, the loudness of the bar assaulted both of them and Mats shook his head. Barely sundown and the people of Sundance were already in the mood for some sin. Mats nodded to the Kid and they parted ways to keep an eye on the patrons of the bar.

Mats went straight up to the bartender and the namesake of the place. He moved over and rested an elbow on the bar while Robert Lewandowski came over to talk to him.

“How can I help you tonight, sheriff?” Robert flashed a smile and Mats knew with that level of charm that it wasn’t too hard of a stretch to recall why Lewandowski had once had the alias of ‘Satan Bob’. He was charming, too much so to be not up to something, and he was a devilishly clever man, a bad combination for Mats’ peace-loving nature. “Come to check in us all?”

“Heard you had some trouble earlier, a fight.” Mats asked, watching the other man for a reaction.

Robert shook his head and polished a glass that he picked up from the counter. “Not too much trouble, your deputy handled it all well enough. It was just a misunderstanding is all.”

Robert smiled again but Mats didn’t return it. “A misunderstanding over what exactly?”

“You tell me sheriff, you seem to know more about it than I do.” Robert’s smile was still there but it wasn’t as welcoming or friendly as it had been a moment before. His expression had hardened a little, confirming what Mats thought about whatever the fight earlier wasn’t just about a new stage coach delivery. Julian probably guessed it but wasn’t going to go around making accusations without proof or Mats’ own endorsement on it all, Mats thought as he and Robert continued their staring contest.

“It’s your establishment, Mr. Lewandowski. I had just assumed you knew everything that was going on inside it.” Mats returned smoothly and Robert’s smile faded altogether.

“You just let me know if you need anything else, sheriff. A drink perhaps? I’ll make sure it stays on the house.” Robert gave one last stare before he broke the contact and started down the bar, checking on his patrons that had a glass of whisky or beer in front of them.

Mats tapped the surface of the bar with his fingers before he turned to go find Julian so that they could clear out of there, when he felt someone take his hand. Mats looked down and saw his hand was, in fact, joined with another man’s and then he followed that hand up to an arm, higher still until he saw the pretty blond face that was attached to the body that was so near in proximity to his own.

A stranger, definitely new in town, likely came in on that stage earlier. Still, Mats found himself attracted to the man in front of him and he pushed away the thought of the Good Book and let the temptation of a sin be close enough by that he was going to flirt with it. How could a mortal man refuse when it was just a few pretty words and looks that suggested more but wouldn’t be acted upon?

“How about we go upstairs and I’ll show you a good time?” The other man asked quietly, not causing a scene. He had let go of Mats’ hand but was staying close enough that the warmth of his body just seeped into Mats’ own.

“That a proposition?” Mats asked with a raised eyebrow. It had been a while since he had busted anyone for prostitution or soliciting. He was about due for one, he thought.

“Only if you want it to be handsome.” The blond replied and Mats was tempted to see how far it would go before he would be honor and duty-bound to arrest the offender. He smiled a little and nodded in agreement.

“Very well then, lead the way, sir.” Mats replied, earning a grin from the blond who lead him towards the stairs of the saloon.

The last thing Mats saw of downstairs was the ever-watchful eye of the bartender down below and his sly gaze on the two of them headed upstairs. Mats was going to shut him down for sure this time after this, he was sure of the fact he would have more than enough evidence to do so. To be running a prostitution ring out of this place… Mats was almost giddy with the fact he’d get the chance to put a town nuisance out of business.

The blond opened the door to a room a few away from the main staircase and he let Mats go in first. The sheriff stepped into the almost pitch-black room and blinked to let his eyes adjust. To help out with that, the blond man struck a match and ignited the wick of a kerosene lantern and adjusted the height of the flame to allow enough light to see things by in the room, but not too much to be blindingly bright or uncomfortable. Besides, for the intentions the blond had in mind, too much light wasn’t going to be very mood-setting.

“So what is it you want, handsome?” The blond asked, moving around him, running his finger down Mats’ spine and across his shoulder blades. He couldn’t help it; he shivered at the touch.

“What do you want to offer me?” Mats asked, waiting for the answer that would seal the man’s fate and be enough to get him arrested. It would be any second now…

The blond man leaned closer from behind and Mats could feel the warmth of the body behind him. He shivered again when warm breath crossed over his ear and the words registered in his mind when the other man spoke again.

“Anything, everything. You can have it all. Just tell me what you want.”

“What’s your name?” Mats asked, feeling the other man’s hands running over his body lightly, skimming across the muscles of his back and his chest, then lower across his belly and his abdomen, even lower still, only ghosting across his groin and Mats couldn’t help the moan that came out. He felt the smile against his neck before the other man kissed the skin there and Mats dug his finger nails into his hands. This was a sin. This was wrong. This was _illegal_.

“Call me whatever you want, handsome. Call me whoever you want.” He said again and Mats shook his head, pulling away a little and faced the other man. His dark eyes met the other man’s and he stared into those eyes. A hundred questions—why are you doing this? Aren’t you better than degrading yourself like this? Don’t you have any respect for yourself? Isn’t there anyone who loves you that you would stop doing things like this for? How many times have you been arrested? Are you clean? How much do you normally charge? Did Satan Bob set you up for this to get me in trouble?—crossed his mind at a lightning pace but he didn’t focus on any of them long enough to ask. Besides, he didn’t have enough evidence yet; he needed more.

“What’s your name? If this is going to happen, I want your name.” Mats replied and that was honest. If he was going to arrest this man he needed a name. Even an alias would work. He’d chased after less before and been successful. ‘Blondie’ didn’t look good on an arrest report though. He wanted a name.

The other man shrugged. “Whatever, call me Marco then.”

Mats nodded and tasted the name in his mouth before it came out in his accent. “Marco, nice.”

Marco smiled a little again, though his tone suggested indifference underneath all that flirty get up. “Glad you like it, handsome. I like the way it sounds in your accent.”

Mats, never comfortable with having to flirt or be particularly interesting when it came to romantic scenarios, said the first thing that came to his mind. This is where his inexperience would fail him time after time, but he ignored it. “It’s a Texas one.”

Marco, noticing his slight awkwardness, chuckled as he pushed Mats to the bed and sank to his knees in front of the other man.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Mats was having a hard time trying to keep himself focused on what he was supposed to be doing, not what he was wanting to happen. _It’s a sin. It’s wrong. Tomorrow’s Sunday._

“What they say about Texas? That everything is bigger?”

Marco was pulling his belt through his belt loops and had dropped the leather band on the bed beside him. Mats swallowed hard and Marco paused with his fingers on Mats’ trouser button. He was waiting for an answer.

“Don’t know, never asked.” He finally stammered out and he really regretting not having anything to drink since that one cup of coffee back in the jail before the Kid had returned from supper. His throat was drier than the canyon out in the middle of the desert.

Marco grinned and Mats recognized all sorts of mischief in that look but he couldn’t find it within himself to stop Marco or to move away from those fingers as they undid his pants and began to pull them lower on his body. For Christ’s sake this couldn’t happen right now. He was the sheriff. He had Indians to worry about. He had criminals to apprehend. He had—

“Oh, _fuck_!”

His head dropped back while his entire shaft was swallowed whole by Marco’s mouth. In one simple motion, Marco had deep-throated his entire length and was now bobbing his head slowly in the rhythm of the most obscene one of these Mats had ever received. Marco’s mouth pulled back from his cock and Mats groaned, sorely missing the contact he had had. Marco spit on his cock and stroked it with his hand instead. He looked up into Mats’ face and he grinned a little.

“You taste nice, Mister Texan. And it is true, at least for you.” Marco grinned and then lowered his mouth over him again and Mats couldn’t help it, his elbows slid out from under him and he collapsed against the bed as Marco’s head began to bob up and down again.

One of his hands found its way into the blond hair and he tugged at the short strands as Marco’s mouth repeatedly moved over his cock. Every so often, Marco would release Mats’ cock with a slurp or a pop and would kiss along the shaft, praising it with his lips and his tongue and Mats would groan even louder.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” Marco asked after he had face-fucked himself on Mats’ cock. “I would let you, if you want.”

Mats groaned, completely and utterly helpless. Some resemblance of his responsibility and his duty lingered and he shook his head, groaning out a low ‘no’ and Marco didn’t appear to be disappointed or relieved by his answer.

“Fine by me, handsome.” Marco replied and he started to lower his mouth once more but Mats stopped him with a gentle tug to his hair. He slowly sat up, first on his elbows, then all the way until he was standing in front of the other man.

“I’ll fuck your mouth.” Mats spoke with a deeper voice than normal. Marco grinned, gave him a wink, and then opened his mouth wide. Mats shook his head at the willingness of the other man and he didn’t give him time to prepare. He simply took the other man’s head in his hand and held him in place as he thrust his cock into the waiting mouth.

Marco kept his mouth wide and open as Mats’ moved his hips in and out of his willing partner’s lips and he closed his eyes and just listened to the sound of his cock in Marco’s mouth. He probably swore a hundred times, fuck being the most common one, but he didn’t care. His fingernails dug into his palm and he groaned.

He thrust his hips forward, holding Marco’s head in place and buried the other man’s nose in his groin. He rocked a few more times in and out of Marco’s mouth before he came with a long, low groan in the other man’s mouth.

Mats slowly shuffled back, sinking down onto the bed after he let go of the other man’s hair and he felt a peace with himself that he hadn’t felt in a while. It had been a long time since someone else had helped get him off. He glanced at the person in question and the blond was busy wiping some come off of his chin and then he slid the finger that had done so into his mouth, all while keeping eye contact with Mats.

The sheriff leaned back on his elbow and he watched the other man, unsure of what he should say. He had never taken liberties with a prostitute before. Although, he had heard tales, and he didn’t think this was quite how the encounters went. But what was considered normal for something as abnormal as a prostitute and their client?

“You taste good sheriff.” Marco said as he stood up and went to check his appearance in the mirror.

Mats felt a cold weight settle in his chest and he felt horrified. His fear must have shown because Marco commented on it.

“Oh yes, I know who you are. ‘The most handsome bachelor in town’ they call you. Do you know that?” Mats watched Marco in the mirror before he turned back around to face the room. “I like a good lawman. You’re so fun to corrupt.”

“Had much practice at it?” Mats asked, carefully putting himself back in his trousers to hide his shame as much as possible. He was definitely going to pray for forgiveness tomorrow morning all throughout the sermon.

“Enough to know that you enjoyed yourself despite your not wanting to, at first. Guilty consciences are all the same, you know. Doesn’t matter if you’re a priest or a sheriff or just a farmer.”

“How much do I owe you then?” Mats asked, the shame making his cheeks red. He was going to scald himself in hot water when he got back to the jail just to wash this man, this stranger, this whore off of him.

“On the house, sheriff. I ain’t gonna charge you for a good time.” Marco crossed across the room and he glanced out the window. “You looked as though you could use it.”

“Why am I so special?”

Marco glanced back from the window curtains at Mats and smirked more than he smiled. “Done told you. You’re fun to corrupt. I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to spend the night.”

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.” Mats replied as if that explained everything.

“Day after that’s Monday also. Your point?”

“Tomorrow isn’t just another day of the week. It’s a _Sunday_.” Mats replied, the weight of the Bible growing on his shoulders.

“So go to church then.” Marco shrugged. “That doesn’t mean you have to go right now. You could stay here, with me, free of charge?”

Mats shook his head and stood up from the bed. He reached for his hat and shoved it on his head. The Kid likely wondered where he had run off to, but then again, the Kid answered to him, not the other way around. But still, tomorrow was Sunday.

“I’m not courting you. It’s not right, in so many different ways.” Mats replied and started for the door, adjusting his gun belt as he did so.

“Maybe not, but who else are you going to find around this sleepy town that can keep a secret as good as I can and who is willing to do just about anything with you? I already told you…you could ask me for anything and it’s yours, handsome.”

Mats stopped, his hand reaching out for the doorknob but not connecting with it yet.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, handsome? But you are. You very much are that, if not more.”

Mats shrugged. “Just…don’t call me that.”

“Then what shall I call you? Sheriff?”

Mats exhaled sharply and shook his head. “No, definitely not that. I don’t want to be reminded of that around you. Not after,” he gestured behind himself towards the bed, “not after that.”

“Then what else am I supposed to call you? Butt-ugly? That’s a lie and I ain’t going to say that.”

“Mats.” He replied before he could stop himself. “Call me Mats.”

“Mats…your folks forget to call you Matthew, or did they just want to make you plural?” Marco asked with a grin in his voice. Mats turned around and he shook his head.

“My folks are different, that’s for sure.” He wanted to shut the other man up again. He grinned too much. He sounded too cheery. He needed to be quiet again.

Marco was now sitting on the bed, watching Mats turn around and face him. He had his legs splayed wide and Mats couldn’t help but look into the other man’s lap. A tent was very evident in his trousers. Mats hadn’t forgotten that his companion hadn’t come from earlier.

“Mats, how about you stay the night?” Marco asked, noticing where his eyes had gone.

“I shouldn’t. Tomorrow--”

“Is Sunday, I get that.” Marco sighed and fell back onto the bed. Mats shook his head as he took his hat off and tossed it to the side of the room while moving closer.

“You better be worth the hours of prayer I ask for forgiveness in.”

Marco raised his head off the bed and looked at Mats who was busy walking across the floor towards the bed. That grin spread across his face and his legs opened even wider, if that was even possible, to welcome him closer. His hand reached for Mats when he was close enough and soon Mats was pulled down onto the bed.

He told himself he would find a way to forgive himself later for this and when he found the way to do that, he would ask Jesus to forgive him also. But for now, he was going to lose himself for a few hours in bed with this rogue of a man who knew how to please a little too well.

 

When Marco woke up the next morning, Mats was gone. He didn’t remember the other man leaving and he smiled a little to himself. _He’ll be back_ , he thought as he sat up and started to ready himself for the day. Marco went downstairs for his breakfast and sat at the bar while Robert let one of the barmaids hand him a biscuit and some bacon.

“Have a good time last night?” Satan Bob asked, leaning on the bar and watching him for any sign of a lie. Marco didn’t reveal one because he didn’t have to lie. He glanced over at his boss and nodded once.

“Who would have thought? He’s a good lay.” Marco replied with a casual shrug. Satan Bob nodded and then started back for his office. Marco waited till he was gone before he leaned over and spoke to another one of ‘Bob’s Babes’. This one was called Javi, Marco thought.

“Where did he go anyway?” Marco asked and Javi laughed a little.

“Can’t keep an eye on your Johns?” Javi laughed a little and Marco punched him in the arm. Javi rubbed the spot for a moment before he shrugged.

“I saw him leave out the back way earlier this morning. That deputy of his came after him, said someone robbed the mail train and had taken off into the Canyon. Sheriff went off after him.”

Marco shook his head while he ate his biscuit. Satan Bob would be pissed that he didn’t collect a fee off the lawman, but Marco hadn’t lied to the sheriff either. He did give him a free one just because he did like the fun of it. Corruption was a fun game, no matter who you were. He leaned against the bar after his breakfast and listened to the sound of the grandfather clock in the corner as it ticked away.

His ass was sore from the night before and he needed to straighten his room out before working that night. Marco laughed to himself as he started back upstairs. He would need some more sleep before he went back to work that night looking for more lonely men that wanted a quick fuck and didn’t have any qualms about paying for it. Who knew, maybe he would get lucky and the lawman would sneak back to his room again for a second night together. This time, Marco thought with a grin on his face that he didn’t care to explain to Javi, he _would_ charge him. This time he was going to fuck the sheriff, and he was literally going to make him pay to do so.

Sundance was going to be a fun town, he was sure of it.


End file.
